


You Know My Game By Heart

by keldjinfae



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Aaaand snap!, M/M, Riku's a tease, but so is Sora, the sex is a game!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-24 11:15:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2579555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keldjinfae/pseuds/keldjinfae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Riku loves to tease; Sora loves to win.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Know My Game By Heart

Early summer mornings invited laziness, sprawling out underneath a tangled mess of sheets and just breathing, slow and even, while the sun crept into the room through the blinds; eyes open or closed, it didn’t matter, thoughts were idle either way as limbs stretched and creaked with no intention of leaving the bed anytime soon. Waves rolled outside, the sound softened around the edges by thin walls and whirring ceiling fans, and a soft breeze through opened windows stirred discarded papers and matted hair.

Some people were out and about, plans already made and in effect and Riku’s lips curled up in a satisfied smirk, small and private, reveling in a day of no work, no commitments. One arm draped over his head and the other long-ago asleep caught beneath Sora’s back, as close as they could be together without actually touching as much as possible after a night too hot to think, and all signs pointing to another day just like it. For now, the sands were cool, the air was just on the rejuvenating side of warm, and later there would be surfing and fishing and clear ocean water when the heat became a little too much for them to stand.

Riku yawned, sighing loud as he did so, long and uncaring as he arched his back in a morning stretch that cracked, popped, snapped and reminded him of a rubber band and left his eyes at half-mast, content. He tugged his arm experimentally and found it assuredly wedged beneath the weight of Sora’s stubborn back; there was no rush, and Sora was waking up anyway, eyes darting back and forth beneath his eyelids, snoring halted in favor of muttering at his dreams. Riku’s smirk spread into something softer, more admiring.

Sora was spread out like a starfish, one arm reaching out casually toward him, the other draped over the edge of the bed, and both legs in a “V,” left foot beginning to twitch under the sheets and threatening to kick Riku before he was fully awake. Even in sleep, Sora was constant motion, continuous noise, with soft snores, mumbled exclamations, jerking limbs, and a body like… like lasagna; started out curled up on one side of the bed and grew throughout the night until he threatened to take over the entire mattress. Maybe years from now Riku would groan and forsake the bed for sleeping on the couch, but for now he loved it.

Ramblings grew in volume, eyebrows drew together, left leg jerked forward enough to thump against Riku’s shin, and Sora was waking up, getting ready to open his eyes in stages. He squirmed on the mattress, alleviated the weight on Riku’s arm for just a second and settled back down as feeling came into his hand, tingled with that pinprick sting. One more kick, a groan that was protest and resignation both, and then Sora’s eyes opened, abrupt and unfocused, confused when his dream was suddenly replaced with ceiling and broken sunlight.

“Morning, Sunshine,” Riku sing-songed, rolling over, reeling his body in closer to his arrested limb to brush lips against Sora’s ear, smell rumpled, cucumber-melon hair.

Sora ducked away, snorted at the feel of breath against the hairs on his skin, supplied a yawn of his own and stretched his arms out wide before scratching the back of his neck. “Mornin’,” he slurred, voice distorted and rough with sleep. “‘Time is it?” He threw a half-hearted glance over Riku’s shoulder at the digital clock face, shrugged his lack of concern in anything that had to do with getting out of bed on a Saturday and wiggled closer to the body next to him, the warm skin of his back rubbing against Riku’s arm.

Riku returned Sora’s shrug, his interest less on the time than on Sora, still squirming, stretching each limb just to feel it there, eyes blinking to adjust to the light, tongue wetting sleep-chapped lips, humming every now and then just because he was awake and unsure if this was something he wanted to continue. Riku’s low chuckle came almost of its own volition, soft and nearly disembodied with its own sleep-laden rasp. Sora’s frown was curious, gazing up at Riku’s easy grin. “What?”

“Do you ever stop moving?” Riku teased, dipping in to press their noses together, nuzzling and brushing lips in a barely-there kiss.

Sora tilted his head up and caught Riku’s lips with his own as he pulled away, deepening the kiss. Riku moaned in approval, eyelids dropping to mere slits as he curved the arm under Sora’s back into an embrace, fingers pressing just beneath his ribcage as he rolled them over until he was leaning over Sora. Tongue traced lower lip, slipped past teeth and ignored inevitable morning breath, and both sighed long, air and sound tickling each other’s mouths, breathless as they broke away just as slow, laughing. Sora’s eyes glinted as he shoved Riku’s shoulder. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Riku hummed, smile now tempered with intent, and planted a kiss at the curve where Sora’s neck merged with shoulder, marked his flesh with teeth and tongue, smirk ever-present as Sora shifted beneath him, head tipping back for better access to his neck and fingers slipping into Riku’s hair to rub softly against the top of his head. Riku drew back, squinting in playful challenge. “No? Sora, you can’t _sleep_ without moving.” His free hand rested on Sora’s collarbone, fingers splayed and trailing over hollows where nerves were sensitive. He watched, laughter bubbling up from somewhere in his chest, as Sora made it a point _not_ to move, chin jutted out and eyebrows up in silent defiance. Riku nodded his acknowledgement, raised an eyebrow. “Bet you can’t last five minutes.”

“You’re on.” Sora’s grin flashed bright white against tanned skin, lying loose and limber underneath Riku’s body, challenge accepted and invitation clear.

Warmth pooled in Riku’s abdomen, swelled and rose to tingle in his toes, his fingers, raise the hairs on his neck and scalp. “Don’t move,” the command both a tease and a warning, and he watched as Sora’s eyes dilated, saw how his breath caught in his throat and his chest stopped in its steady rise and fall for just a moment, felt Sora’s pulse quicken beneath his palm to catch up to his own heartbeat. But otherwise Sora was still, and Riku leaned in for another languid kiss, deliberately unhurried, lips drawing back smugly when Sora tensed with the effort to resist spurring him on.

Riku spent a leisurely amount of time on Sora’s mouth, kissing around it, just hovering, eyes open to observe Sora’s eyes shut tightly, open back up and stare up at him, brows furrowed in exasperation. Riku kept his face inches from Sora’s own, his superior grin enough to get himself tackled any other time when there wasn’t a battle of wills to be won. “You’re moving, Sora,” he murmured, rubbing their noses together in the faintest of butterfly kisses.

Sora scoffed, shifted on the mattress and shoved up against him with his shoulder. “That doesn’t count, jerk,” he muttered. “I can’t help how my face moves.”

Riku merely raised his eyebrow, _I thought that was the point_ , earning himself a smack on the arm. He laughed, buried his face into the smooth skin by his hand and kissed between Sora’s ribs. “You’re making this pretty easy for me, you know,” he said, knowing his voice would tickle. Sora didn’t answer in favor of keeping his gaze straight up toward the ceiling, and Riku laughed again. “Okay, face doesn’t count. But,” he lifted his head up again, kissed the cleft of Sora’s chin, “talking does.”

Sora’s lips pursed and Riku teased them with his teeth until they parted again, kissed him just long enough for them both to break away shorter of breath, then moved down to Sora’s neck, laving attention on his Adam’s apple, feeling it bob up and down as he swallowed and fought not to respond. He waited for his breathing to become less shaky, for Sora to try to find a rhythm, and then Riku moved the arm cradling his back, embraced the space between his shoulder blades and dug his knuckles into the jumble of nerves there, massaging gently but insistently.

When Sora groaned, Riku halted all movement, waited for Sora to open his eyes again, look up at him in confusion. “Talking, Sora,” he reminded, a thrill surging through him from the nape of his neck to the balls of his feet when Sora _didn’t_ sigh, when Riku could feel the tension buzzing in knotted muscle but Sora remained otherwise motionless. He paused just a little while longer, watched blue eyes flash with impatience, then dipped down and delved into the hollow at Sora’s throat with his tongue, finding the usual hint of salt from summer sweat and days spent on the shore; he’d missed it when they were away, dozens of new worlds and none of them had felt like home until Riku found Sora again and _still_ smelled the ocean on his skin.

Riku’s eyes closed as he hummed, tuneless, focused solely on tasting Sora, wrapped up in salt and soap and hints of Coke and syrup from the night before. He paused every now and then when Sora’s moans chimed out in harmony, resumed when they’d cut off abruptly with a swallow or a sharp intake of breath, and he gradually progressed in a downward trail from Sora’s throat to his right nipple, the other teased with Riku’s left hand, index finger and thumb pinching, rolling, teeth tugging gently until Sora gasped and arched his back.

Riku let up quickly, mouth just barely lifted from skin that now had a thin sheen of sweat, rosy where he’d touched, finding it just as difficult to enforce the bet as it must have been for Sora to win it; Sora was intoxicating in his energy, enticing people to be sucked into it, be swept up and buffeted in its wake until they were left breathless and dazed. When Sora’s body lowered back onto the mattress with an agitated _whoomf_ and a muffled protest of springs, Riku had to bite back a sigh of relief. He propped himself up with his free hand, dug his fingers into the bed beside Sora’s waist and traveled slowly from his sternum to his navel, allowing a few helpless spasms on Sora’s part as he tried to resist laughing, squirming in pleasure simultaneously.

Riku’s head rested on Sora’s abdomen, feeling his shallow breaths rise and fall beneath him, resonate in the hollow of his ear, and he kissed the curve of Sora’s hip lazily, free hand caressing, fingers burrowing between Sora’s flushed body and the mattress for a better hold. He inhaled, his breathing just as shaky as Sora’s, and expelled as he glanced up and locked onto blue eyes with his own, found Sora looking down at him just as affirmed as he felt.

For all of his heroism, all of the power he possessed, Sora would do _this_ for him, willingly. Eagerly. All of his hidden grace, all of his effortless dexterity was bound up by one simple command: don't move. Hands planted on the mattress, fingers digging mercilessly into sheets as Sora strained against his own nature to move, move, always move, twitch, scratch. And this power restraining him was held by Riku, no other. But on the other side of the command, Riku was bound by his pleasure in knowing that he was _trusted_ , that after everything they’d been through Sora was allowing this to happen.

Their twin smiles were almost of their own volition, each bordering on cocky but still somehow disarming, and Riku planted another messy kiss, low on Sora’s pelvic bone, felt him bunch up, and pressed his thumb into Sora’s side where he could feel the last of his restraint coiling, ready to spring and release. Another long moment passed between them, just eye contact, stroking, breathing, and then Riku turned his head enough to the right to take the tip of Sora into his mouth, sucked once, twice, listened to Sora groan and tug up on the sheets so he wouldn’t buck his hips, and chuckled deep in his throat, sound surely tickling Sora with the vibration and temporarily numbing Riku’s lips.

Riku pulled away, snorted at Sora’s irrepressible whine of protest, and swung his left leg over to straddle him. He lifted Sora just enough to move him even closer to the center of the mattress, brought him down so his head wasn’t so close to the headboard and slipped his arms free, rolling his right shoulder until most of the ache abated. Sora watched him, head cocked to the side on the pillow and the hairs closest to his forehead and cheeks matted and damp with sweat, cheeks red and lower lip bruised where he’d bitten down in his efforts to remain quiet.

“Fuck,” Riku whispered, barely audible, and he dropped down to kiss him again, a new sense of urgency changing their tempo. He sat up to find Sora’s eyes closed and a Chesire cat grin plain as day. He poked Sora’s ribs with his left hand, reached into the nightstand’s upper drawer with his right and pulled out condoms and lube, handed one packet to Sora. He bit his lip as he tore the packet, using the short burst of discomfort as a focal point so his hands wouldn’t shake as he worked, watched Sora roll his on, both practiced in the art of making clean-up as easy as possible after too many laundry days and not enough sheets.

Riku kissed him again, nipped Sora’s lip to draw out another groan, hand that wasn’t holding the lube clasping his, bringing their hands up over wild brunette hair fanning over the pillow. Sora’s other hand threaded into Riku’s hair and tugged, nails scraping against skin, terms of their bet forgotten, and Riku swallowed, buried his head into the pillow beside Sora and rubbed their cheeks together. Sora laughed, the pitch a little high but still genuine, “Dork.”

An answering laugh from Riku, and, “Loser.” He silenced any retorts with a long kiss, shoulder nudging against Sora’s and free hand urging him to roll over onto his side. Sora complied, one arm tucked underneath his head and the other curled up in front of his chest, upper leg bent for leverage. Riku pressed a kiss against the nape of Sora’s neck, right below where the first fine brown hairs were curled, smoothed his hand down his side and stopped at the hip, squeezed, kissed his neck again and popped open the cap on the lube bottle. His hands were efficient and easy, his mouth leaving wet trails along Sora’s spine until he was ready for him, and Riku entered him slow, bit his lip as his eyes snapped shut and his breath halted, pressed in close until their bodies were flush, slick and warm. “Love you,” he murmured.

Sora’s voice was little more than a sigh, caught up in unspent energy and the promise of release. “Love you, too.” He reached behind him, rubbed Riku’s thigh before returning his arm back where it was on the mattress. Riku exhaled, began rocking back and forth in a rhythm that was easy on them both, careless in an entire day of nothing to do but enjoy it. Breaths hitching, becoming quick and gasped, heat and that pull in Riku’s core and _god yes_ , all with the assurance that it would happen again, no need to hurry to somewhere or to meet someone.

Riku wrapped his arm around Sora, clasped the hand gripping the mattress and squeezed, kissed his shoulder between pants and brought his hand down to help him, feeling him close to the edge and twitching, jerking back against him, moaning and still trying to talk, words broken and garbled. “Gorgeous,” Riku said, more exhale than speech, grazing the back of Sora’s neck with his teeth, and Sora swore, turned his head and chanted muffled gibberish into the pillow. He drew up tight around Riku, trapping him in white heat, and the force in Riku’s gut melted, burst and caught him up in it, leaving him numb and curled around Sora, trying to find his breath again.

The sun rose higher in the sky, cooking sand and air, and soon the heat made it too uncomfortable for Riku to remain pressed up against Sora’s back. He opted instead to put some distance between them, watch Sora’s body expand and contract, listening to his sighs with limbs spent and relaxed. Riku’s pulse slowed, evened out, his skin cooling as his blood stopped racing through his veins. Sora’s breathing quieted too, and he rolled over to face Riku, blue eyes partially lidded in lazy satisfaction, mouth curved in a soft grin.

Soon, they’d walk down to the beach and spend the day hiding from the heat in the waves, but for now Riku matched Sora’s content smile with one of his own, leaned in conspiratorially, just close enough to whisper against his lips but still maintain that careful distance to avoid overheating. “You lost, Sora.”

Sora flashed Riku a frown, blue eyes still dancing all the same from beneath lowered lashes, and stretched forward the rest of the distance to give Riku a chaste kiss. “Did not; you weren’t timing me so you wouldn’t know.” He poked Riku’s sternum with his index finger, rolled onto his back and yawned, stretched long and languid until his arms and legs dropped back onto the mattress with a heavy thump. “It was a draw.”

Riku chuckled, hair ruffling and scratching against the cool cotton of the pillowcase as he kissed Sora just below his ear, grinned against the involuntary shiver that ran through his body. “I call a rematch,” he said, body already responding to the chance of doing this again the following morning, a blush staining his own cheeks envisioning Sora on the bed bound by his drive to win, and felt his lips draw back around teeth that may have seemed feral, intending to prevail himself.

“You’re on,” Sora accepted, that knowing gaze tempering his smile. “Now you make the bed,” he muttered, sparing Riku one last kiss before rolling out of the bed with a grunt of exertion and ambling toward the bathroom to dispose of his condom and shower in preparation for another day of beach hair. “I’m not supposed to be moving right now, anyway.”


End file.
